


And I protect you with fire

by shamelessnameless



Series: Keep My Shirt [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Allusions to psychological trauma due to injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Some BDSM if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You either need to calm down now or I’m calling an ambulance,” Mario said calmly and Marco wanted to crawl into him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I protect you with fire

**Author's Note:**

> A silly one-shot in this series. Allusions to psychological trauma due to returning injuries.

“Harder,” Marco begged and Mario huffed out a laugh behind him, before leaning down, his body a long line of heat against Marco’s back. “Don’t think that’s physically possible babe,” he said and sucked a kiss against Marco’s neck.

Marco had to admit that he had no idea how Mario kept up the stamina to fuck him like this – Marco apparently lacked the coordination or force of movement or whatever and couldn’t really return the favor. He had to trust in Mario claiming that he wasn’t very fond of being fucked hard.

It was something that was quite important for Marco.

It took his mind of things. When they had started experimenting they had soon found out that Marco needed to be handled roughly from time to time and that Mario wasn’t ok with inflicting pain on him. Being fucked like this hurt in a delicious way that Mario didn’t mind and Marco reveled in it, the movement and hotness and Mario being absolutely, completely in charge. He trusted no one like he trusted Mario and giving himself like this, offering Mario everything of himself, coming apart under his touch helped a lot in keeping Marco sane. His body which was so difficult to navigate so often, which liked to betray Marco and refused him release and relaxation so often, in which Marco had stopped trusting sometime in 2014 obeyed completely when Mario was dominating it this absolutely and Marco needed this, needed it so badly right now after the week he had had that he wanted to howl and sob with it.

“Shh, babe,” Mario said above him while still pounding him, every thrust perfectly aimed at Marco’s prostate, “shh, we’ll get you there, don’t hurry yourself. Don’t forget to breathe.” Marco sobbed out Mario’s name and Mario soothed a warm hand down Marco’s sweaty spine and Marco thanked god that they were professional athletes and Mario wasn’t turned off by sweat because Marco felt as if he had run three marathons in a row and he looked and felt like it too. Mario felt huge in him and he had started to get sore and he was so so close and he needed – “come for me,” Mario said to him and Marco did, came apart and back to himself safely under Mario’s body who was busy pressing kisses all over his shoulder blades. “Back with me?” Mario said and he sounded extraordinarily pleased with himself like he always was when Marco blacked out from the force of his orgasm and Marco groaned at his smug tone. Mario smiled against his left shoulder and pressed a last kiss there before getting up.

“Can you join me in the shower or are you unable to move?” he teased and Marco turned around with a groan and shot his grinning boyfriend a falsely annoyed look. Mario was not at all self conscious about his body and he stood there silently watching Marco, stark naked and unashamed and Marco loved him so goddamn much. He tensed his abs to get up and out of the bed when his abductor gave a twinge so hard that he couldn’t stifle a groan. “Sore?” Mario said and Marco could only shake his head. His leg muscles were hardening up and something throbbed terribly and Marco felt sick and shaky immediately and then he was sniffling because fuck fuck fuck fuck, he had been told to rest his leg and Mario was going to be furious when he found out and – “Marco,” Mario said forcefully. He was leaning down in front of Marco, his hands were framing Marco’s face and he looked worried, “what’s wrong? Where are you hurting?” Marco felt some of the wetness overspilling from his eyes and Mario thumped his tears away gently, not once looking away from Marco’s face. “Abductors,” he choked out, “cramp. I’m sorry, I’m –“ “Shh, hey, no,” Mario interrupted him right away, “let’s make you feel better before I chew you out. Marco, you stupid idiot. Come here.”

He sat down on the bed and hugged Marco close for a moment before shifting him to lie down on his back. “This is going to hurt,” he warned right before pressing his fingers into the hardened muscle in Marco’s thigh. Marco hid his face in his hands and then yanked hard at his hair, because this was unbearable, he couldn’t take it, he – “Stop that,” Mario ordered him and grabbed his wrist to press Marco’s arm back on the bed. “How bad on a scale from one to ten?” he asked and Marco lost it. Mario stopped massaging his leg and tugged Marco back up instead, cradling his head in the crook between his neck and shoulder and Marco sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Mario stroked up and down his shaking back, not saying anything and Marco couldn’t believe himself, he had known that this wouldn’t be easy on his legs and he had still done it, why had he been so careless with his body, why had he –

“You either need to calm down now or I’m calling an ambulance,” Mario said calmly and Marco wanted to crawl into him. Mario took his head in his hands again, turning his face him to look down at him. He sighed deeply when he saw Marco’s blotchy eyes and then pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. Marco drew in a few hitching breaths and there were some more tears that Mario kissed away and then he was calm enough to blow his nose and drink some water that Mario forced down his throat.

“I’m going to draw you a bath,” Mario said and he was still so calm and Marco pressed himself closer again. Mario smelled like sex and himself underneath and it calmed Marco a bit more to breathe him in. “If that doesn’t help we’re calling someone. Let’s not overreact from here ok? You were just surprised by the pain and we have to evaluate if we really aggravated the injury, ok? I need you to stay calm and not work yourself up again, ok? Remember what you were taught in therapy to deal with this.” “I’m so sorry,” Marco said and Mario sighed and kissed him for a few long moments. “Definitely not going to fuck you like this again when you’re out again,” Mario said against his lips and Marco shook his head, whispered “needed it so badly, please don’t say that.” “Pretty sure whatever you get out of it has been kind of negated by this meltdown,” Mario said and the teasing tone was back.

Mario always tried to take Marco’s injuries as lightly as possible. He teased and made fun of Marco and then listened to him ramble and cry without any approaches, offered warm embraces and soft kisses, gentle massages and a never ending patience when Marco complained about his body. Marco could tell by the unhappy slant of his mouth and the way he watched Marco like a hawk that he was worried and cared and he was here at least, wasn’t he, could get all of Mario’s care in person instead of over the phone and that was something if this turned out to be bad. God, he didn’t want to imagine what he would have to tell Tuchel if…”Stop drawing up scenarios in your head,” Mario said with narrowing eyes and then took Marco straight to the bathroom with him, made him sit down on the toilet seat and kept up a rambling monologue to entertain him while he filled his giant tub that nobody needed ever. Mario was so vain and Marco would probably hate him if he had met him just now, but he hadn’t and Mario was the best person ever and –

“You’re spacing out babe,” Mario said. He crouched in front of Marco, hands resting lightly on one of his knees and the other one had taken a hold of Marco’s shin. His teasing tone had shifted again and he wasn’t hiding his worry any longer which meant that Marco was scaring him but Marco was so cold and unfocused suddenly. He tried to touch Mario’s face and ended up more or less hitting his cheek and tilting towards him dangerously when his whole world started to spin. Mario grabbed him and cursed and Marco….Marco….”What’s happening?” Mario said, “don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s going on with you. Are you dizzy?” “Going to throw up,” Marco managed to say and then he already was and Mario pressed his head down while pressing his knees open. He was pretty sure that he had managed to throw up on Mario. He was going to kill himself once he felt better.

Mario was saying something, but Marco kind of didn’t hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. A moment later his mouth was wiped clean and his chest too and his legs too and god, what had he done, where hadn’t he thrown up, and then he was lifted up and warm water was enclosing him and Mario’s worried face was in front of him. Marco was shivering and Mario kept a hold of his biceps and pressed his other hand over Marco’s heart. “Calm down,” he said and then let go of Marco’s chest to take Marco’s hand instead and pressed it over his own heart. “Breathe with me,” he ordered and Marco did until his heart stopped galloping in his chest. The warm water probably helped as well and if he didn’t look down he would never know if vomit was in Mario’s tub in which case he would be killed by his boyfriend before the night was over.

“You said the therapy was successful,” Mario said in a flat tone and Marco winced. “I said it helped,” he tried but Mario never forgot anything that Marco told him. “Marco,” he said warningly and Marco shot him a pleading look that had Mario’s eyes softening again in a heartbeat. “We’ll work on that again,” Mario said and squeezed Marco’s hand, “you have to take your psychological reactions to injury serious. Talking about this with you is like talking to a fucking brick wall, Marco.” “It’s not PTSD,” Marco said weakly. “Nobody ever said it was,” Mario said in a tone of voice that implied very much what he thought of their ongoing discussions about that topic, “I said it’s comparable to PTSD. Your doctors said the same. That’s why you had therapy.” “It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,” Marco said. “Babe,” Mario said very softly, “it’s not that uncommon. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to many athletes, professional and unprofessional ones and no one expects you to open up about it large-scale but you have to be honest with me, your doctors and at least one other person in Dortmund if you don’t want to tell your parents. We agreed on that and you definitely lied to me.”

“Please not right now, Mario,” Marco begged and Mario shook his head. “How’s your leg?” he asked and shit, it was so much better and Marco couldn’t believe that he had overreacted like this. Mario would never let him get out of therapy now.

“Better,” he admitted and Mario shook his head again. “You’re killing me babe,” he said softly and Marco apologized and Mario told him to shut up. “Can I get you out of the tub and into my shower? I feel like we need to rinse you off some more. There was vomit everywhere. On me and you and my floor and in my tub.” “If I ask you to never talk about this again and offer you anything, will you take it?” Marco said despairingly. “Yes,” Mario said and his tone was serious, shit, “you start accepting that the thought of getting injured or the feeling as if you’ve been injured is hard to deal with right now. You’re going to start taking your therapy serious and you stop feeling ashamed and you will admit to me when it’s hard for you and we won’t repeat this again. You really worried me, Marco.” Marco drew in a deep breath and nodded and Mario smiled at him before helping him out of the tub and into his shower, gently hugging and rocking Marco when he admitted how terribly he felt because of this. “I just feel as if I can’t deal with this on top of everything else,” Marco managed to say, “it’s so ridiculous Mario, why can’t I just deal with this like anyone else, why –,“ and Mario kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and Marco calmed down slowly. “It’s not ridiculous and you’re not alone in this,” he promised and toweled Marco dry and made him a comfortable bed on the couch before feeding him lunch and watching crappy daytime TV with him that Marco loved and Mario hated and Marco cuddled up to him and let himself be petted and soothed and relaxed until he fell asleep.

#

“Mario,” Marco said and he tried to stay calm, he really did, but he was going to kill Mario. Slowly. “Did you tell Auba about what happened when I visited you two weeks ago?” “You mean after you promised me that you would tell someone, take therapy serious and be open with me about it and then did none of those things?” Mario answered him calmly. Marco had to breathe in deeply. “He’s worried sick for nothing and you had no right to interfere, Mario,” Marco said and Mario – laughed at him, that little shit. “Marco,” he said, “Pierre has known for ages that something was up with you. We talk about you at least once a week so it came up. I could have told Mats. I could have told Nuri.” “Marioooo,” Marco said and stressed is name to an impressive 10 syllables, “I hate you.” “And I love you,” Mario said easily, “and so does Pierre. He worries about you. Let him help, ok? I bet it’s been already good for you having someone on the team who knows about it.” “I preferred when you were still jealous of him,” Marco claimed which wasn’t true. That phase had been thankfully short-lived but still horrible and then Mario and Auba had decided to team up on him and Marco equally loved and hated being taken care of like this. “You don’t,” Mario said laughingly, “you love Pierre so much you want get a tattoo with him. He sent me a video of you drunk rambling last week. Go ahead with it, you haven’t gotten a new one in ages.” “I feel very put out that my boyfriend doesn’t mind me getting tattoos with another man,” Marco muttered. “Well, once he figures out his feelings for you make him enter a polyamorous relationship with us and I won’t mind,” Mario said, “and tell him that I love his new shoes. The yellow ones. Snap a picture of him being abashed about that compliment, it’s the cutest fucking thing ever.” “Shut up,” Marco said. It really was the cutest thing, but nobody needed to know besides him. “I love you,” Mario said softly, “call me before you fall asleep.” “Thank you for telling him,” Marco said and Mario laughed and said “you know the other thing I loved about this video was you talking about how my eyes are like the sun for five minutes,” and Marco squeaked and Mario laughed himself sick before handing up.

“Delete this photo,” Auba screamed the next day in the dressing room, “Delete the fucking video!” Marco shouted back and then howled with laughter at the indignant look on Auba’s face. Marco took another photo of him and Auba grumbled and complained and chased him all over the training grounds and then told him to work his energy off with Mario on the phone after training and Marco smacked him with his towel and was chased around the dressing room when Mats had enough and unceremoniously locked both of their phones in his locker. “Let’s let him calm down for a moment,” Auba said easily and then whistled while getting dressed next to Mats in an offbeat tune that returned their cell phones rather fast. “Need a ride home?” he asked next and Marco grinned and nodded. Car rides with Auba kind of ranked very high in the list of things he enjoyed.

“Are you doing ok?” Auba asked once they had reached the Autobahn. They never drove home immediately, always taking a detour to chat and calm each other down after keying each other up so much in training. It was kind of the next best way for Marco to get some sleep even if he loved his sleeping ritual with Mario a bit more. He was also pretty sure that Auba and Mario collaborated in Marco getting as much sleep as possible and wasn’t that the cutest fucking thing? He was so lucky. “You know, with the therapy and all?” Auba pressed on when Marco didn’t answer straight away. “I knew you would make a bigger deal out of this than it is,” he muttered and Auba laughed and slapped his thigh. “You know you can talk with me, yes?” he said in an earnest voice and Marco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His friendship with Auba mattered so much to him that he had a hard time articulating it in words from time to time.

“Therapy is going fine,” Marco said after a moment, “still thinking how silly I am about this though. And missing Mario, but that’s nothing new.” “None of those things are silly, idiot,” Auba said and Marco grinned at the tone of his voice. He leaned back to watch Pierre handle the car with quiet ease (Marco still thought back in horror to the days when he was new to German traffic laws) and let himself relax for a moment. Christmas wasn’t to far off and Mario would come to Dortmund like he did each year and spent at least four days with him and Pierre had already bought him a present and Marco hadn’t of course, because he always did his shopping last minute and…

“Close your eyes for a moment if you’re tired,” Auba said softly and Marco did, warm and content in his car.


End file.
